


Don't Leave Me Now (My Heart's Yet To Have Its Fill Of You)

by MomentaryEuphoria



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Comatose Zayn, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Married Life, Married Ziam, Medical Inaccuracies, OT5 Friendship, Sad, Ziam AU, larry - Freeform, larry wedding, probably, someone teach me how to tag, these tags are all over the place, what else?, ziam, ziam fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentaryEuphoria/pseuds/MomentaryEuphoria
Summary: Abhi na jao chhod karKe dil abhi bhara nehiDon’t leave me nowMy heart’s yet to have its fill of you.The words haunt Liam. He hears them everywhere. He hears them in the silence that he comes home to everynight nowadays, hears them in the absence of whispered ‘Good mornings’, ’Good night’s and ‘I love you’s. He hears them in the missing warmth of a body sleeping next to him, in the unrumpled sheets on one side of the bed, in the pillow that still smells faintly of Zayn’ shampoo.But he hears them most clearly in the whirring of the machines that keep Zayn alive for now.Or, the one where Liam looks back at happier times as Zayn has slipped into a coma.





	Don't Leave Me Now (My Heart's Yet To Have Its Fill Of You)

**_Abhi na jao chhod kar_ **

**_  
_ ** __

_**Ke dil abhi bhara nehi**_

Don’t leave me now

My heart’s yet to have its fill of you.

The words haunt Liam. He hears them everywhere. He hears them in the silence that he comes home to everynight nowadays, hears them in the absence of whispered ‘Good mornings’, ’Good night’s and ‘I love you’s. He hears them in the missing warmth of a body sleeping next to him, in the unrumpled sheets on one side of the bed, in the pillow that still smells faintly of Zayn’ shampoo.

But he hears them most clearly in the whirring of the machines that keep Zayn alive for now.

The first time Zayn had sung to him, he hadn’t even realised it.

_Liam wakes up to sunlight streaming in through the windows, the curtains gently fluttering in the soft breeze. He feels the warmth of Zayn’s body next to him, and he smiles to himself, a bit._

  


_It takes him a moment to realise that Zayn is singing, his sleep riddled voice smoothing over the foreign words that slip from his lips, and he’s drawing patterns on his back in a language equally as foreign._

_He revels in the moment- the sound of his voice,his finger tips, the bright sunlight, the faint breeze blowing in, countering the warmth of the sunshine. He can almost pretend that this is what they do. That they wake you up to each other, proper domestic, and they share these little acts of tenderness that speak volumes with silence. Almost._

_They don’t, however. They never wake up to each other. Liam has always been the early-riser, and Zayn loves a pillow more than anything else in the world, as Liam often jokes. Liam always wakes up before him, out the door before Zayn has a chance to open his eyes, realising half-way that he has put on Zayn’s shirt in his haste to get away._

_Even though it breaks his heart, he leaves because he knows if he stays, it might mean something more, and he’s scared that he’ll be the only one to feel it. He knows he won’t be able to bear the pain of knowing that Zayn doesn’t want him the same way. He is happy holding onto the faint hope flickering inside of him that Zayn wants him back, will asphyxiate himself just to keep that faint light alive. Someday, he wishes to have enough courage to face the truth, but not today._

_So he lies there, still, scared that any movement on his part will ruin the atmosphere of serenity that he wants to experience forever. He wants to hold on to the false hope that Zayn wants him back as long as he can._

_And then as Zayn’s singing, his voice breaks over a word, Liam feels like he’s intruding on something private- a moment that he’s not meant to witness or experience; and Liam just shuts his eyes tighter to escape the feeling of guilt akin to walking in on somebody crying hidden away somewhere._

_It would be so easy to just turn around, so that Zayn knows he was awake for everything, but he can’t, not now._

_He doesn’t understand the words or the meaning behind them, but knows that there’s no way he’ll be forgetting the melody anytime soon. Liam feels the shift in the air then, feels the presence of something new waiting to be discovered. He knows that things will never be the same again._

Liam takes a moment to compose himself before he enters Zayn’s room. He should be accustomed to it by now, watching Zayn lie motionless on his bed, dwarfed by the machines that surround him, but nothing can ever prepare him for the sight that greets him on the other side of the door every day that he has come to visit.

He can’t help but hope that today will be different, that today, Zayn will be awake and concious, will sit up and smile at him, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth and everything will go back to the way it was. He is far from the mindless desperation that had gripped him during the initial days of his hospital visits, and disappointment has weathered it down to this small flicker of hope that he can’t seem to let go of. It dies everyday with the sight of Zayn unmoving, and burns a little bit brighter on this side of the door.

Nothing has changed, he finds, when he finally enters.

Zayn lies on the bed, and He swallows down the lump in his throat, plasters a fake smile on his face that he knows Zayn would call him out on if he were awake.

He wants him to, so bad. He walks towards the table by the side of Zayn’s bed, rearranges the get-well-soon cards that litter the surface, since flowers are not allowed in the room, and adds one of his own to the pile.

He takes out the stool with practiced ease, draws it closer to Zayn’s bed and sits.

It’s the same sight that has greeted him for the past three weeks. Zayn’s face is turned towards him, his eyes closed as if in slumber, tubes in his mouth. He has become well acquainted with the machines that Zayn is hooked up to- the ventilator that works to keep Zayn breathing, urging his unwilling chest to rise up and down rhythmically; the heart monitor that measures his heart beat in peaks and slopes, the tube descending into his food pipe that they are feeding him through, apart from others that he doesn’t know the names of yet.

He looks pale under the fluorescent lights, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, his cheekbones looking sharper. He looks devastatingly beautiful, even now, when there’s a machine keeping him alive and Liam can almost pretend he has just discovered Zayn sneaking a quick lie-in when he comes home after office- but.

There’s a bandage around his head, his hair shaven off for surgery and Liam allows himself a smile as he imagines what Zayn’s reaction would have been whad he been he awake for it.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Niall’s dating a new girl now- Louis found out before Niall told us. He’s currently not speaking to Niall on account of his betrayal.” Liam rolls his eyes.

“I told him he’s cranky because Harry hasn’t proposed to him yet. You should have seen his face!”

He keeps on an one-sided conversation with Zayn, pretends that all the whirring, beeping, blinking are some kinds of encrypted messages that Zayn is sending his way, that he’ll help Liam to decipher when he wakes up.

“Drake’s Passionfruit is amazing, man! Here have a listen-” He takes out his phone and plays the song for Zayn, bopping his head to the music. Zayn, true to himself, remains immune to the beat. Just the same. Everyday. Minutes pass the same way, Liam plays him the kind of songs that he likes, desperately wishing for Zayn to give him a sign that he’s in there, listening.

He knows his time is up when Caroline enters. The nurse smiles at him when she enters,and Liam can detect the hint of pity in the warmth of her smile. He has become exceptionally receptive towards pity, being on the receiving end has given him a lot of practice.

Liam remembers how irrationally angry he felt during the initial days when faced with pitiful glances and smiles and ’I am sorry’s. He used to wonder whether they thought their pity would help Zayn in some sort of way, like it would help him to breathe on his own again. He knows now, that it’s not their fault- it’s just their helplessness showing through.

He doesn’t blame them, he knows how pitiable he must look. Talking to a person who can’t hear him, playing songs for him- but the doctor had said, and Liam believes him too, that it would help. That patients in a coma could sometimes sense their surroundings, but couldn’t respond to it. Liam had googled for hours and hours, stories that gave him hope- like the old woman who held on long enough for her daughter to see her, and gave up just after she sensed her daughter was indeed near her bedside. She hadn’t opened her eyes once, but had sensed the presence of her daughter.

He holds on to the hope, believes with all his heart that Zayn really is listening, maybe waits for Liam to show up everyday, laughs at him, with him…

It’s why he puts on a brave face when he comes through the door everyday, has a smile on his face, because he has to be strong for Zayn. Wants to get the message across that Liam hasn’t given up hope, not yet, will not, ever.

He smiles back at Caroline.

“How are you?” He asks.

“I am doing well.” She answers, but doesn’t ask him the same question. Liam silently appreciates her sensibility, he doesn’t know what answer he would give to that question.

_I’m breathing? Not living. Breathing._

Liam knows he’ll be asked to leave soon, so he leans towards Zayn.

“I’ll be leaving now,yeah? I’ll be back tomorrow. Sleep well” Liam whispers into Zayn’s ear, stroking the back of his palm, maneuvering around the IV neddle. He kisses his fingers since his forehead is bandaged, whispering an ‘I love you’ into the light band of skin where Zayn’s ring used to rest.

Caroline shoots him a smile as she flits around the room, fiddling with the tubes and catheter.

“See you tomorrow, Liam.” She calls out.

Liam nods in affirmation, then leaves, not looking back because he might just never leave.

He drives home, breathing in the fresh air, but somehow the sterile smell of disinfectants seems to have been ingrained into his senses that he can’t get rid of however hard he tries to.

Later that night, he wakes up in a sweat. There are tears in his eyes from the familiar nightmare that seems to have taken the place of his dreams. It’s the same every night. Zayn’s ring rests on his chest, the cool metal providing comfort in the form of memories of the person it belonged, no, _belongs_ to. Liam often finds himself fiddling with the ring when he needs comfort. Ever since the accident, when he was handed the ring along with everything Zayn had on him that day, he had kept it close to him, on a chain around his neck.

He takes out the ring, running his finger along the engraving.

_Not even the gods above_

His own ring bears the rest of it.

_Can separate the two of us._

**Author's Note:**

> Please come and say hi on [tumblr](https://ziamperfection.tumblr.com/) .


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